The Vanishing Foreigner, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

He stopped at the tiny street-side shop downstairs to buy a boxed lunch from the elderly woman who ran it. They usually exchanged a little friendly banter, but today she seemed to hurry him through their transaction as quickly as possible. After he paid he headed for Peace Park but on the way he realized he'd made a mistake: it was opening day of election season and the politicians' supporters were out in force blaring away from campaign cars with loudspeakers. They had converged on the downtown area to peck away at the lunch hour crowd and even deep within the park there was nowhere to escape the din. He decided to make the best of it and took his place on a bench underneath a cherry tree next to the river. Despite the noise it was still a beautiful day and bit by bit his body began to unclench itself. As he ate he mulled over what to do the new class.

Living in such a noisy area was taking its toll. He always felt tired and now they were going to alter his schedule in a way that would cut even more into his sleep; surely they knew he wouldn't want to give up his weekend. He had to hand it to Tanaka: he'd never met anyone more adept at putting him at a disadvantage.

The morning classes wouldn't be so bad if he could get enough sleep. He'd explained the situation many times to Tanaka but he didn't care whether Danny slept or not; all he cared about was whether he showed up on time. He must have known Danny wouldn't want to give up his Saturday night. The students at the company probably didn't want to either.

The more he thought about the students not wanting to give up their Saturday night the more convinced he became that there was no alternative plan for morning classes: it was a ruse to allow the school to overstep the boundaries of his contract. When he went back to the office he'd tell Tanaka he wanted to do the class Saturday nights and watch him fumble and stew. After he flailed about a bit he'd tell him he'd consider the morning classes, but only if he could move to a different apartment. Danny couldn't wait to see the look on Tanaka's face when he gave him the news.

Looking at the problem in this new light brought to mind his mother and how when given poor choices she would always offer a counter-proposal that furthered her interests. It was the first time he could remember ever realizing they had anything in common and he longed to speak with her and share the news.

He was watching the water and reliving some old memories of his family when his thoughts were interrupted by the cackle of someone plugging in a microphone. He looked up and saw a man on the other side of the river. He was wearing a suit and white headband with an electric megaphone hanging from a shoulder strap. He began speaking into the microphone and as he did the three women with him, all dressed in white with matching hats and gloves, smiled and bowed to the passersby.

The megaphone was of poor quality and Danny could barely understand a syllable. No one seemed to be paying the man any attention yet on he went. Danny forgot his thoughts of family and began thinking about Ms. Watanabe. He felt intruded upon and when he could take it no more cupped his mouth with both hands and shouted, "Shut up you idiot! Nobody cares!" When he did this it seemed to encourage the women and they bowed more deeply then smiled and waved to him. The man waved too and this made Danny so angry he gathered his trash and stomped off.

He walked over to Motoyasubashi, a steeply arched bridge that leads to an arcade, and while he was crossing a young couple approached from the other way. When the man noticed him he leaned over and said something to her. Sure enough, when her eyes met Danny's she covered her mouth and laughed. Normally Danny would have begun to count and look away, but today he couldn't and crossed the street to bump the man hard with his shoulder as they passed. It felt good to hit him but by the time he reached the opposite bank he was overcome by shame and went back to look for the couple to apologize. After searching for them unsuccessfully he came back and sat down on a step near a group of cement planters and nearly began to weep. Everything, even his bargaining position with Tanaka, began to unravel and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He was locked within this dreary line of thought when he was interrupted again, but this time by a caravan of nationalists' sound trucks, an even noisier group than the politicians. They were well-funded and had their own wire-screened buses with banks of loudspeakers arrayed like cannons. Marching music was blasting away while someone inside made a melodramatic speech about something Danny couldn't make out. The noise was deafening.

They parked next to a tall building that focused the sound and the speaker's pitch began to rise from a gentle admonishment to a harangue. Danny couldn't take it any more and got to his feet, but in order to enter the arcade he had to walk just in front of the lead bus. As he was passing by he looked at the two men sitting in front. When they saw him they laughed and pointed, then one of them turned to the back and said something to the others. There was a pause in the speech and Danny could hear a background voice over the speakers say "Carrot head."

It had been a long time since Danny had given anybody a good beating and he missed that clarity he always felt at the end of a match. He stopped and glared at the two. Then, as if the command had come from some deep, reptilian recess of his brain, a voice began to count: "1, 3, 2, 4, 3, 5, 4, 6, 5, 7, 6, 8, 7, 9, 8, 10!" Danny blinked and within that fraction of a second, remarkably detailed images of how he'd work his way through the bus flashed before his eyes. The one who had pointed at him had flat cheeks and Danny automatically calculated how he could raise the brightest shiner.

They continued to laugh and when he was directly in front he stopped and faced them. With both hands he beckoned them to step outside but they remained fixed. Danny gave them a mock salute with a wink then continued on his way.

The road sloped down to the arcade's entrance and as he passed inside a group of teenagers sped by on their bicycles. Some of them had dyed their hair and they all wore the same baggy school uniforms, untucked and wrinkled. After they passed one of them shouted back "Hey redhead!" This was followed by hoots of laughter and they all stopped a safe distance away and began to taunt him. Danny faked as if he was going to run after them and they scattered, but when they saw it was a bluff, circled back and started in again. Danny knew he couldn't catch them, and even if he could there wasn't a thing he could do without serious consequences.

Rick Nelson grew up in Oklahoma and has lived in Japan for all but a few of the last 27 years. His mother was a librarian and professional storyteller and was instrumental in developing his interest in literature and writing. Hiroshima inspires him and he currently divides time between Hiroshima city and Shikoku.